The Cross
by Ayrn
Summary: It's 1942, and WWII is raging. Teenaged Deryn and Alek find themselves caught in the middle of the fighting - and more treachery and secrets than they can bear! Read more to find out about their adventures in the second world war! On hold until further notice.
1. A Race and a Mission

**Author's Note:**  
_Leviathan, Behemoth, and Goliath are all owned by Scott Westerfeld, as well as the characters described in this fan fiction. I do not claim any ownership except for the writing you will soon read. If I were Scott Westerfeld, I'd be in Australia and writing the fourth book (even though in real life he's not), and last time I checked the Sears Tower was still outside my window._

_The following fan fiction, "The Cross", takes place during World War II. The year is 1941, but no - Alek and Deryn are not 42-year-olds. They are still teenagers, which means they would have been born a few years after WWI ended. I just felt that it would be better to keep them young in this particular story. Also, there is still an Austria, and Alek is still on the run, and he's still a prince - it's everything that happened in the real book, moved forward twenty years in time. And of course, with a slightly different storyline, but that can't be helped seeing as it's a whole different war._

_It starts out six days after Alek and company come aboard the ship for the first time. However, this time, he and Deryn become very fast friends and they have already told each other all of their secrets - except for the one about Deryn being a girl. This may seem a bit unlikely, but it would also be boring if they weren't very close friends yet._

_All historical or geographical mistakes are mine, although some of them I changed on purpose._

_If you're going to comment or review my writing, please don't say things like "I swear to God that sucked" and not tell me why. Constructive criticism is very welcomed, but insulting my writing is just downright nasty. And if you like a part of it, please tell me what and why. Thanks, and I hope you like my first fan fiction! _

CHAPTER ONE  
"Adolf Hitler," Alek spoke slowly, testing the new, foreign words on his tongue. The edges were sharp, leaving his mouth with the aftertaste of metal, and a strange feeling he couldn't identify. He licked his lips and began to analyze the name. "It sounds Austrian. Perhaps he was born in my country." He set down the newspaper he was holding and looked across the table at Dylan. The boy was absently scratching circles into the wood of the wall next to them.

"Dylan," Alek said loudly. "Dylan." The boy ignored him, tracing the outline of the Leviathan into the mess wall. "God's wounds, Dylan, are you listening to me?"

A few awkward moments of silence passed. Then Dylan seemed to notice that Alek was staring at him expectantly. Clearing his throat, Dylan turned back to the table and grinned sheepishly. "Were you saying something?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, I was," Alek huffed. "I would kick you, but I just woke up. Anyway." Alek slid the newspaper across the table. "This Hitler has an Austrian name. Do you think he is maybe a native to my country?"

Dylan grabbed a biscuit and began to chew on it as he read the paper silently. As he progressed down the page, his jaw stilled as his eyes widened, and eventually he looked up at Alek in shock. "Let's hope not!" he exclaimed. "Austria would be ashamed to have such a man come from her depths!" Dylan shook his head and swallowed the rest of his biscuit.

Alek nibbled nervously on his own flaky biscuit. Hitler _did_ sound like a strange, cruel man, accordingly to the newspaper. It told him that he hated Jews and wanted to get rid of them, so he stuffed them into camps and killed them. If somebody like that came from Austria, Alek would throw himself off the ship in a blink.

"And what do you-" Alek began, but Dylan gestured for him to shut up, pointing at the edge of the table. A message lizard had scrambled over the top and was heading toward Dylan. As it neared him, the lizard drew itself up and began to speak.

"Mr. Sharp, please come to the bridge," the lizard said in Dr. Barlow's voice. "The captain and I have to speak with you. Make haste." There was a pause, and then the captain's voice came in. "And if you want, Prince Alek may come as well. If you want."

Alek harrumphed, slightly offended. But Dylan was already chattering out a reply message. "I'll be there in a squick, ma'am. Alek's coming. End message." The lizard turned and scampered off.

"I wonder what this is about," Dylan pondered as they got up and headed for the bridge. "The captain never calls me to talk to him. Maybe it's something about you."

Alek shrugged. "I've only been on the ship for six days. What could I have possibly done?"

Dylan gave Alek a withering look. "You're a barking prince, you _Dummkopf_. You don't have to do anything."

"But he asked for you," Alek reminded him. "Added me in as an afterthought." He paused. "Probably only because I'm a prince. Maybe it's a good thing that the ship found out about my secret."

Dylan reddened. "Aye, sorry about that. I didn't think anyone was there but you and me and Dr. Barlow." Then he shrugged. "Why you even told me in the first place is beyond me."

"You were just the first person I met," Alek said. "I had a sort of natural trust. But it's okay now, I don't mind."

Dylan sighed. "If you say so."

He and Alek walked a bit in silence, both of them trying awkwardly to ignore the tension that hovered in the air between them. This went on for so long that eventually he couldn't stand it. Alek was about to spout random words just to fill the silence, but then Dylan jerked his head at a doorway to the left. "There," he said. "Open that door."

Thankful for the diversion, Alek swerved toward it and turned the knob. As he swung it outward, a draft of wind snuck into the corridor, and the sound of rushing air could be heard. "God's wounds!" he cried, staring downward. "Where on _Leviathan_ are we?"

Dylan knelt beside Alek, looking downward at the empty air before them crisscrossed only with thick, coarse ropes. "We're just above the stern end of the gondola," he explained. "It's the quickest way to get to the bridge."

"Maybe, but it's hardly the safest!" Alek protested, shying away from the open space. "I'll just take the longer way around! See you there!" He whirled around and dashed off, only to be stopped as Dylan reached out and snagged his coattails. Alek snapped to a halt.

"No, you won't, your Serene Highness," Dylan scolded. "You'd better not defy the great Dylan Sharp!" The edge of his long rigging knife glinted in the early afternoon sun, and Alek sighed. With a few choice German curses, he allowed himself to be clipped up.

As soon as he was finished with Alek, Dylan strapped them together and fixed Alek's buckle. Then he stepped to the edge of the doorway and glanced back. "Here we go!" Dylan shouted. "Are you ready?" Without waiting for an answer, he leaped into the air. Alek screamed as they whizzed down the tangle of ropes. Was Dylan mad? The whole thing was suspiciously dangerous!

The possibly crazy midshipman let out a whoop, twirling most amusingly through the intertwining ropes. Alek just shut his eyes, tightened his grip, and ignored the sounds of rushing air around him. Somehow he managed to hang on to Dylan until they landed with a thunk on the top of the gondola. Alek panted, snapping his eyes wide. "God's wounds, Dylan!" he puffed out. "That was terrifying!"

"Aye!" he agreed, and began to unclip them. Alek shrugged himself out of his makeshift harness and waited as Dylan tossed them into an open window at the side of the gondola. "Sorry about that!" the boy called down, but didn't stay to say anything more. He was sprinting along the length of the gondola toward the bridge before Alek could even blink. Momentarily stunned, he collected himself and followed his friend, if not a bit more slowly.

By the time he reached the bridge and swung down the hatch into it, Dylan was nodding politely as the captain and Dr. Barlow talked softly to him. Alek cleared his throat, and all three of stopped talking and turned around. A brief pause ensued, but then Dr. Barlow spoke. "Ah, Alek," she announced. "We were just telling Mr. Sharp about his newest assignment. Perhaps you'd like to hear?"

Alek glanced at Dylan, who shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay," Alek agreed. "This might be interesting."

The captain brushed off his coat and stood a little straighter. "Mr. Sharp has been chosen for a special mission. Two days from now, we will drop him in Germany. He will, along with three other men, infiltrate Dachau concentration camp, take control of the communication and administration, and bring supplies to the inmates. Then, the _Leviathan_ will arrive and officially liberate the camp." The captain gave Alek a hard glare. "This is a top secret military mission. If you tell anybody, I will personally see to it that you will never be able to tell anything to anybody ever again."

Alek nodded quickly. "Yes, sir!"

Dylan snickered. Alek glared at him.

"Mr. Sharp," the lady boffin interrupted. "I believe you should choose your three men now."

"Aye, you're right," Dylan agreed. He pondered for a moment, and then spoke again. "Newkirk, of course," he decided firmly. "And perhaps that Ludlow boy. Oh, and uh … and Alek." He turned to Alek and grinned broadly. The latter stared back, not comprehending.

"A-Alek?" the captain stammered, just as surprised. "But he's a prince! He has no military training, no useful traits! Why would you-?"

"Sir," Dylan interrupted. "I have a plan. I know what I'm doing."

The captain looked skeptical for a moment, but finally he sighed and said, "All right. You _are_ in charge of this mission anyway. Choose whomever you please." With that, he turned, retreated behind his desk, and began shuffling his papers. "You are dismissed."

Dylan saluted, turned on his heel, and sailed out the door. Alek hurried after him, half-stumbling in his haste. "Wait, Dylan!" he called. "You're ... going too fast!" The boy ignored him, so Alek was forced to pick up his pace until he was able to jog alongside his friend at approximately the same speed. "You … you … God's wounds, Dylan! Would you slow _down _for a moment?"

With an overly dramatic sigh, Dylan drew himself in. Finally Alek was able to _walk _instead of sprint, and he stretched out his knees rather pleasurably. "Thank you," he huffed. "It was about time you realized that I haven't all the military experience you do."

"_Or _maybe it's time that _you _realized I'm taller!" Dylan shot back, but his blue eyes danced with mirth. Alek raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

"Why, is that how you speak to the future Emperor of Austria?" he challenged.

"Aye, that's right!" Dylan cried, and shot down the corridor before Alek could react. "That's exactly how I speak to bum-rags like you!"

_"Dylan!" _Alek shouted, forcing himself to run again. "Dylan, you little cheat, stop!"

Eventually, Alek was able to catch up to his friend and yank on his arm. Dylan grudgingly agreed not to run so fast again, and inwardly Alek thought, _Again around officers, or again anytime? _But he didn't dwell on the thought. At least Dylan wasn't running at the moment, and that's all his fairly vibrating legs cared about.

They headed back to Dylan's quarters, passing Newkirk and Ludlow on the way. "Mission, two days," was all Dylan said. This was met both times with a torrent of questions, but the boy simply replied, "Top secret. Meet me in my quarters at noon on the day." Finally, after a bit of grumbling, Newkirk and Ludlow both went back to their previous occupations and left the middy and prince alone. Alek was happy for the silence, because it meant that no one was around to pry and ask about everything he said. Dylan made small talk, and Alek answered with "mmhmm"s and "of course"s when appropriate. The time flew, and soon they were both collapsing into chairs in Dylan's quarters.

"Lunch always makes me drowsy," Dylan explained, switching from a chair to his bed. "Especially when there's potatoes and biscuits involved." He glanced at Alek, who stared back expressionless. "Barking spiders, Alek, stop looking at me like that."

Alek shrugged, grinning. "It's nice to creep you out for a change, and not be intimidated by your … what do you call it … air sense."

Dylan chuckled. "A prince afraid of an airman's expertise? Alek, my friend, I think you're scrambled in the attic." He fixed Alek with a convincingly worried look. Alek would have been fooled had it not been for the cocked eyebrow above one eye.

"I am not _afraid, _as you most blatantly put it. I am _intimidated, _simply because I don't know as much about flying as you do."

"You're afraid, your princeliness, admit it."

"I am most certainly not afraid!" Alek protested, stomping a foot. "I am _intimidated! _And those are very different things!_" _Too late he realized that his childish actions completely contradicted his words.

Dylan _tsk_ed and fixed Alek with yet another unwavering stare. For a few moments, Alek felt as if he were being drawn into the depths of his eyes, falling into a strange void of disbelief and laughter. He wanted to blink, but he steeled himself and widened his eyes. Dylan chuckled, keeping his gaze steady with ease. Alek felt a vague annoyance at yet another thing his friend bested him in. Was he ever going to be better than Dylan? It seemed that Alek was inferior in every way - climbing the ratlines, feeding the bats, cranking in the Huxley. At least he knew more about engineering than he did. He gave a little grin of triumph at that thought, but then lost concentration and broke eye contact.

The middy on the bed gave a little "heh" of triumph, then said evenly, "If you are not afraid, why did you look away first?"

Alek stuck out his tongue. _"Du bist zu intelligent für die eigene gute," _he replied.

Dylan glared at him.

"You're too smart for your own good," he amended.

Dylan grinned. "Aye. Thank you."


	2. Dachau and Potatoes

CHAPTER TWO  
Deryn raised a fist to knock, then lowered it and unclenched her fingers. Glancing behind her, she could see only an empty corridor. There was nothing to be afraid of. Sighing, she raised her hand again and rapped her knuckles on the fabricated wood.

Almost immediately, Captain Hobbes opened the door and ushered her inside. "Mr. Sharp," he announced to the lady boffin, who was sitting at a table in the bridge. Maps were spread out on the surface of the table, and Dr. Barlow momentarily looked up for a quick nod. Deryn straightened her back to stop her trembling and took a seat as the captain did.

"I hope you're not considering abandoning this mission?" Captain Hobbes asked, noting her trembling fingers.

"Oh, uh … no, of course not. Just a bit of nerves," Deryn sputtered. "Sorry."

Captain Hobbes smiled. "That's all right, it's okay to be nervous. Just don't let it get the better of you."

"Aye, sir," Deryn replied, forcing her hands to be still.

"Now, on to more pressing matters," the captain continued. "This map here …" He pulled a large sheet of paper toward him. " … is of Germany. We will come to a low hover around here …" The captain pointed to a spot on the map. "And you will have to drop to the ground as we move. Of course, it will be at a low speed, and you'll be sliding down a rope, so it's not as dangerous as you think. But you must do it quickly, as we will be precariously close to military territory." Captain Hobbes then indicated a second spot, perhaps a few centimeters above the first one. It was circled in red and labeled with a scrawled _Dachau._ "This is where the camp is. It's about ten or fifteen miles, but it's the closest we can get without alerting the Germans to our presence. After you get there, you will have to somehow get control of the communication and administration." He steepled his hands and gave Deryn a grave look. "Exactly how is up to you, but you'd best not fail."

"Aye, sir," Deryn said quietly.

"Very good, Mr. Sharp." Captain Hobbes gave her a nod. "You will also have to take along medical supplies, food, water, and blankets. You will not be needing many, as the _Leviathan _will come a week later with more supplies, but it's best to be prepared." He then nodded at Dr. Barlow, who got up, took a covered cage from a hook on the wall, and brought it to the table. "And if for some reason, it's imperative that the _Leviathan _not come, you have this to take the message to us."

The lady boffin uncovered the cage, and a strange cross between a cat and a bird blinked in the sudden light. Its body was like a bird, but there was fur laced into its feathers, as well as larger talons than usual. It had strange furry ears and little paws on its chest, but other than that it looked like a rather large canary. Deryn stared at it, perplexed. "How will this get a message to you?"

"It will fly, of course," the lady boffin explained. "The cat lifethread gives it the uncanny sense of knowing where the _Leviathan _is at all times, and it will return to you after its first round if necessary. All you have to do is blow this whistle, and it will find its way back." She smiled. "Very useful if the danger to the ship clears after a bit, and we can safely come to pick you up. It's called a felavian."

Deryn nodded. "Aye, of course. Thank you, Dr. Barlow." She reached out and took the cage, peering more closely at the so-called felavian. It blinked innocently back at her.

"Any questions, Mr. Sharp?" the captain asked, interrupting her ponderings.

"Hm? Oh yes," Deryn blinked out of her reverie. "Sorry. But no, I don't have any questions. Thank you for the felavian."

"Of course, Mr. Sharp, but please don't let anybody see it," Dr. Barlow advised. She threw Deryn the cover and nodded at the cage. "Cover it, if you would?"

"Yes, ma'am," Deryn dutifully replied, and fit the cloth over the cage.

She lingered there for a moment, unsure of what to do. But eventually the captain noticed her, and said cheerfully, "Well, Mr. Sharp? I suggest you get some dinner and a nice sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow." Deryn nodded, relieved, and hurried out of the bridge.

"Don't forget - don't tell anybody else about these plans! Anybody!" the lady boffin called after her.

"Aye, ma'am!" Deryn yelled over her shoulder, and found the ladder up to the main ship. Quickly, she tucked the felavian's cage under her arm and scrambled up it. She could smell potatoes, and she really didn't want to miss dinner if that was the case.

After a swift stop to her quarters to put down the beastie, Deryn was flying through the corridors toward the mess hall. "Potatoes, potatoes!" she was exclaiming quite madly, and it was a wonder nobody stopped her an accused her of lunacy. But she managed to get to the mess in the nick of time, swiping the last heap of potatoes from the pot. The people behind her groaned collectively, but she just grinned and brought her plate over to where Newkirk and Alek were sitting.

As she slid into the table next to Alek, the prince gave her a strange look. Deryn paled for a moment, wondering if he knew her secret, but then he nodded at the potatoes. "You really like those, don't you?" he said, shaking his head. "It's a wonder we still _have _potatoes on the ship at all."

Relieved beyond caring, Deryn grinned and punched his shoulder. "It's wonder you're still alive, your princeliness. Alek."

He let out a muffled exclamation of surprise, rubbing his shoulder. "Ouch, Dylan!" he grumbled around his mouthful of potatoes. "That actually hurt!"

"Did it?" Deryn replied. "Sorry, your princeliness," she chuckled. "But I couldn't help it. You look so barking funny when you're in pain!"

"Quite a morbid outlook, Mr. Sharp," Alek shot back. "Ironic, considering we're in the middle of a war."

"Aye, that we are," Deryn was forced to agree. Her face took on a somber expression for a moment, as if regretting her brash words. Alek let himself believe he had won. But then she grinned and brightened again, clapping Alek on his injured shoulder. "But that makes no difference! You're still barking hilarious!"

"Ouch," was all Alek dared say, rubbing his shoulder again.

Newkirk stifled a laugh into his thick leather gloves. In retaliation, Alek swiped a biscuit off his plate. Deryn just smiled, amused by her friends' antics. She wished it would be like this for ever and ever. But she knew in her heart that someday it would have to end.


	3. Keelhaul Drop

CHAPTER THREE  
_Click. _Dylan was ready.

_Click. _Newkirk was ready.

_Click. _Ludlow was ready.

"_Dylan!" _Alek fumbled with his buckle.

"Barking spiders, Alek," Dylan grumbled, shuffling over to Alek and clicking his harness together. "It's just a buckle. Don't you have them in Austria?"

"Yes, but never so _complicated!" _Alek stared disdainfully at the scene before him, unnervingly similar to the one that they had encountered on the way down to the gondola the other day. The only difference was that now they had heavy backpacks on their shoulders, and the ropes were metal and ended in thin air. The landscape below passed by slowly. Alek edged nervously back from the edge.

"Daft prince," Dylan said, clutching his cable in his hands. "Just grab on to a rope and slide down. It's really not that hard if you listen to everything I say."

"Of course," Alek muttered, tightening his grip on his own cable. He could feel the rough strings of the metal rope digging into his palms, even through the gloves, and it somehow comforted him, being connected to something Clanker among all the Darwinism around him. He took a deep breath and glanced at Dylan. "All right. I'm ready."

"Glad to hear it, your princeliness," Dylan grinned and looked at Newkirk and Ludlow. "Are you two ready?"

They nodded back in unison, raising their gloved hands in acknowledgement. Dylan inclined his head back at them, and attached his safety clip to his cable. Alek, Newkirk, and Ludlow followed suit. Then, with a, "Ready? Go!", they were off.

Whizzing through his hands, the cable hissed angrily like a snake. The metal snapped in the wind, and suddenly Alek was thankful for the safety clip. Forcing his fingers to stop shaking, he glanced over at Dylan and saw that they were nearing the ground. Dylan let them swing forward once, then back again, and finally, as they swung forward a second time, he called, "Slide off!"

Alek clicked the safety clip off and released his grip, resulting in a mad fling through the air. He suppressed a scream of fear, pushing it down under his burning need to one-up his friend Dylan. Managing not to shriek German profanities into the air, he landed with a thunk, stumbling a bit and then falling face-first onto the grass. "_Dummkopf," _he muttered under his breath, and pushed himself to his feet. Dylan, Newkirk, and Ludlow were all already standing, and he quickly ran over to join them.

" …week until the _Leviathan _comes back," Dylan was explaining to the others. "We'll have to get in there, take control, and send the felavian back." He raised a strange cat-bird hybrid. The "felavian" mewled and clutched tightly to Dylan's arm. Alek suppressed a shudder. Ungodly creatures.

"The camp is that way," Dylan continued, lowering his arm and nodding toward a forest to the north of them. "We should head into the forest and keep going north until we get to the camp. From there, I'll give you more instructions." Newkirk and Ludlow nodded. Alek just eyed the felavian warily, but ended up giving Dylan a slow, uncertain incline of his head.

"All right. Quiet, now," Dylan ordered, and began picking his way across the plain toward the forest. Alek followed him, and Newkirk and Ludlow brought up the rear. As the sun started its downward climb from its noon perch, Alek found himself wishing he were back on the ship. Embarrassed, he gave himself a mental slap and thought, _You _Dummkopf! _The prince of Austria can't possibly be afraid of a simple mission, now can he? _He set his jaw and walked a little more confidently.

They reached the forest well before sunset, and were pushing through the trees as the sun slipped below the horizon. Dylan handed them each a glowworm lantern, and one by one they slipped back the covers and allowed a strange green light to escape. They were silent for the most part, seeing as they were in enemy territory, unless Dylan was berating Alek for something stupid he'd done. As a result, they made good time, managing to get through half of the distance to the camp by the time the moon rose.

Dylan raised a finger to his lips and gestured to his backpack. Understanding, Alek slipped the heavy pack from his shoulders, thumped it down on the soil, and extracted the rolled-up sleeping pallet from the top. Newkirk and Ludlow could be heard doing the same thing a few yards away, and Dylan was already spreading his pallet out on the ground. When they were done, four long pallets lay in the dusty ground, bordered by hefty backpacks of the same number. Alek flopped down onto his own and glanced at Dylan. "Did we bring food?" he asked, almost whining.

"Daftie," Dylan whispered back, but he was pulling out dried beef from his pack as he spoke. "Hurry, eat some and go to sleep. I'll take the first watch, but one of you will have to replace me at midnight." He tossed packs of beef to his companions, who caught them eagerly and began to eat. Alek ripped his open and stuffed it in his mouth. He hadn't eaten since breakfast back on the ship, and was thankful that Dylan had brought extra food along.

Alek was halfway through his pack of dried meat before he noticed that Dylan wasn't touching his food. "Not hungry?" he asked, although he knew that wasn't the case. He wasn't the only one that hadn't eaten since they'd left the _Leviathan._

"No, just …" Dylan sighed and stared at his meal. "Yeah, that's it. Just not hungry. That's all." He crumpled the meat between his fingers, and tossed it towards where Alek was sitting. "Here, take it. I don't really feel like eating."

"Wait-" Alek caught the meat between his hands. "You can't _not _be hungry! We haven't eaten for hours. How do you last so long?"

Dylan gave him a sad half-smile. "Middy techniques," was all he said. "Go to sleep, Alek. You'll need it for tomorrow."

Alek chewed Dylan's portion of meat between his teeth, momentarily silent and simply looking at the stars. "All right," he sighed finally. "I'll go to sleep. But you really must eat something. Just because you're leading the mission doesn't mean you have to sacrifice the food."

Dylan just nodded, already turning away and staring out into the night, an air pistol ready in his arm. Alek watched as Dylan began his watch, but soon he grew tired and began to follow his friend's instructions. With a whisper of cloth and a rustle of a grass, Alek slid into his pallet, closed his eyes, and quickly fell asleep.


	4. The Walker

CHAPTER FOUR  
_Awake, _Deryn thought. _Awake, awake, awake. _She struggled to keep her eyes open, feeling as if they were weighed down with lead. The arm holding the air pistol was sagging with the weight, and she regretted giving the beef to Alek. Why _did _she do that anyway? Was her appetite turned off by her thoughts of home? Did she really not feel hungry? Whatever the reason was, her stomach grumbled as loud as one of Alek's Clanker engines.

It was not yet midnight, but it was close enough. Convincing herself she deserved the rest, she pulled herself to her feet and turned around, about to wake up Newkirk for the second watch. But just as she took a step toward his pallet, she heard a loud rustling sound from behind. Immediately alert, sleepiness forgotten, she whirled around and raised her air pistol. Heart pounding fast, she scanned the horizon.

The trees of the forest blackened the edge of the sky, but there was one irregularly shaped hump above the leaves. Deryn inched forward a bit, squinting her eyes for a closer look. As the hump took another step, the trees flailed and rustled. A vibration shook the ground a few moments later, traveling through Deryn's feet and up her legs. _A German walker_, Deryn realized with shock. She hadn't expected them so late in the night, but it was war, and nothing could be predicted.

Wasting no time, she whirled around, knelt by her friends, and shook Alek's shoulder frantically. "Get up," she hissed. "German walker, a kilometer to the north." Before he could respond, Deryn was already doing the same to Newkirk and Ludlow. Rubbing their eyes, they slowly came to, but when they understood the gravity of the situation, they dashed to their feet and began packing up. Deryn rolled up her sleeping pallet, shoved it back into her pack, and shouldered it with hardly more than a grunt.

They were just about ready to run when suddenly, there was a singing hiss of metal against metal. Deryn, Newkirk, and Ludlow looked over at Alek, who had drawn a saber from his belt and was brandishing it in the moonlight. _Blisters! _she swore in her mind. _He brought a saber along? _

"Alek, what are you doing?" Deryn hissed aloud. "A blade can't do anything against an armored German walker!"

"Shh, I have a plan," Alek replied, creeping forward with his saber at the ready. "With these air pistols and sabers, we can't take down the walker. But we can take down the pilots."

Deryn turned her head to give him an astonished look. _"What?" _she whispered in disbelief. "That's barking insane! Why would we want to take over the walker, anyway? We can get to the camp plenty quickly on foot!"

Alek shook his head. "True enough, but the walker will be faster! And it will disguise us if our infiltration plan goes awry!" As he said this, a vibration shuddered the ground beneath them, and a distant treetop shivered, then fell.

Deryn considered his proposal. They _would _go faster if they had the walker, plus it had more ammunition, armor, and firepower, and probably more supplies. The walker pilots' uniforms would also be useful for blending in, and nobody in the camp would suspect one of their own coming to take them over … she thought for a bit more, and then decided. "All right," she said. "Men, be ready. We're going to take down the pilots and secure the walker."

Newkirk and Ludlow's faces were the personification of surprise, but since Deryn was the leader of the mission, they just sighed and saluted. Satisfied, Deryn waved her hand, hoisted her air pistol, and changed course, heading toward the walker instead of away. The others trailed after her, raising their respective weapons.

They were about half a kilometer away when the walker finally noticed them. With a loud growl and crunch of metal, its cannon rose slowly into the air. Deryn grabbed Alek and shoved him behind a tree, trusting Newkirk and Ludlow to follow her. Just a few moments later, a flash of red could be seen in the distance, along with a loud boom and the smell of smoke. The ground a few meters away from the four of them sprayed upward in a geyser of dirt, scattering pebbles into their faces. Deryn coughed, waving the dust away and stumbling further toward the walker. "Hurry!" she called.

Another squeal of metal could be heard, and then the patter of machine guns over their heads. _Tatta-tatta-tatta-tatta._ The ground surrounding them was littered with tiny holes, plumes of dust rising into the air. Deryn wove among the bullets, shouting instructions to her men. "To the left! Stop, around the right! Hurry, hurry! Pick up the pace!"

The air around them was soon filled with smoke and the sound of bullets, the leaves and bark in the surrounding trees shredded to scraps. Deryn ducked under a branch and checked the distance - only about a quarter kilometer away. _Come on, come on, just a bit more, _she told herself. The guns on the walker swiveled to follow their path.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! _Loud ricochets could be heard all around them, nearly deafening Deryn and spraying bark onto their unprotected faces. Coughing, she ducked down low and went around the side of the walker, forcing herself to run harder. Alek sprinted along beside her, and she gave him a quick smile. Then they were upon the walker.

It was about ten meters away, huge and hulking, even bigger than Alek's old Cyklop Stormwalker. The guns were pointed downward at them, flashes of white and red signifying their fire. Deryn held her breath, cocked her pistol, and ran headlong into the crossfire.

_"Dylan!" _Alek and Newkirk and Ludlow screamed at the same time, but Deryn was able to reach the sheltered underside of the walker with just a nick in the arm. Deryn slapped a hand to the wound, coming away with blood. She hissed in a breath, ripped a piece of cloth off of her shirt, and tied it around her arm as a makeshift bandage. Alek and the others joined her, and Alek peered at the blood. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Deryn replied, turning to look up at the belly of the walker. The hatchway was too far above them to be reached, but there were notches in one of the legs that could be used to climb. She jerked her head toward them, and her men nodded back. Glad that they understood, she rushed over to the leg, gripped a notch in one hand, and began scrambling up the metal limb.

Just as the other three started after her, the hatchway slammed open. Two German soldiers dropped down, landing with a cloud of dust, wielding FK 38 field guns. Immediately, they raised their weapons and began firing. Luckily, Deryn was already scrambling across the belly to the hatch, and their bullets pinged off raw metal. Alek, Newkirk, and Ludlow hopped to the ground again, descending into the dust and attacking the Germans with fervor. Deryn slipped through the hatchway and raised herself into the cabin. As soon as she got in, she flung her backpack to the side.

Four other men were stationed there, one at the pilot's seat, the other at the commander's, and two at the machine guns. The two machine gunners spun as she ascended through the hatchway, and immediately drew their own field guns. But before they could do anything, Deryn was slamming the butt of her air pistol on the head of one of them. He groaned and slumped to the ground, his gun rolling out of his fingers onto the metal floor. The other fired at her, grazing her thigh. Stifling a scream, she limped toward him and punched him right in the temple. He crumpled to the floor with a loud thump.

By then, the pilot and the commander had both raised their guns and were pointing them right at her. She ducked, and the bullets hit the far wall. But the pilot had dropped his gun, realizing her strategy, and leaped over his chair to tackle Deryn to the ground. The air pistol in her hand was knocked out onto the floor from the impact, and she struggled to grab it. The pilot pressed his elbow into her shoulder, keeping her pinned to the ground. _"Bum-rag!" _she spat, twisting her shoulder from his grasp, and lunging for the air pistol, kneeing the pilot in the stomach on the way. The commander grabbed the pistol just before she did, but Deryn slapped it out of his hand and scrambled to her feet. The pilot was already out, so she cocked the pistol and fired at the commander.

"Agh!" he cried, buckling backward and falling to the ground. His field gun clattered onto the deck of the cabin, and Deryn quickly swooped down and gathered it up. Without another thought, she whirled around and poked her head down through the belly hatch. Alek, Newkirk, and Ludlow were just about done with the other soldiers. Seeing that they were finished and waiting, Deryn unrolled the ladder with loud clacking sound. They scrambled up the rungs one by one, eager to get out of the night and into the walker.

Alek was first, covered in dust, gunpowder, and some kind of engine grease. Tossing the saber and his backpack to the side, he wiped some grime from his uniform and stumbled to the front of the cabin. He slumped against the base of the pilot's chair, breathing hard and wiping sweat from his brow. Newkirk and Ludlow scrambled up after him, discarding their air pistols and packs on the control panel and immediately beginning to disarm and disclothe the fallen Germans. As Alek noticed what they were doing, he went over and began to help.

Deryn silently started to pick up the weapons, gathering the air pistols in one arm and the saber in the other. Newkirk and Ludlow handed her the FK 38s they found, and Alek tossed her a slim weapon she'd never seen before. She hefted it into the air, inspected it for a moment, and then gave a huff of indifference, stuffing them all into a locker at the back of the cabin. Soon, the other three had slipped the Germans out of their clothes, refitted them with spare slops, and thrown them down to the forest ground. As soon as the last one slipped down into the night, Deryn pulled up the ladder and latched the belly hatch closed.

She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the scene. The piloting cabin was clean enough, if not a little dusty and grimy. The Germans had been cleared away, and the weapons stored. Noticing the flung-away backpacks, she quickly piled them in a corner. When she was done, the cabin was just as neat as before - if not a bit more bloody.

"Alek, could you pilot-" she began, but was cut herself off with a muted cry of agony, the wounds she had take on coming back in one painful rush. Deryn remembered the nicks in her arm - at least two - and the graze against her right thigh. Alek rushed over, concerned and inquiring. "My arm," she managed. "And my leg, here." She sat down heavily and gestured at her thigh.

Ludlow rushed to the packs, opening a random one and looking through the contents. "Aha!" he announced, holding up a pack of bandages and a bottle. "Here, I found some spare medical supplies." He tossed them to Alek, who caught them expertly. Newkirk joined Ludlow, and they began to organize the backpacks.

Deryn tried to push Alek away, murmuring that she could take care of herself, but he shook his head and insisted that he stay. "Trust me, Dylan," he said. "I'm more experienced in _this _than you." Deryn just shook her head, but allowed him to help.

Alek unrolled a length of bandages and pushed Deryn's sleeve up. She hissed from the pain, but bit her lip, not wanting to show an outright display of cowardice. Alek first removed her makeshift shirt bandage, then began to wind the real one around the wounds. It was wide enough and the nicks were close enough that just one strip could cover them both, although blood quickly stained them a pale pink. Deryn took no notice, rolling down her sleeve before Alek could see anything more.

Her thigh was the biggest problem, being the deepest nicked and throbbing most painfully. Alek set to work, cleaning and discarding, rubbing a kind of oil of some sort. Deryn clenched her fingers, holding in the agony, as Alek firmly wound another length of bandages around her leg. She watched his fingers, nimbly moving up and down. Then she noticed the blood running down his hands.

"Alek," she pointed out. "Your hand - it's bloody. What happened out there?" She gave him a look.

"Huh?" Alek snipped off the edge of the bandage and glanced inquiringly at her. "Oh, right. Just a little scratch." He shook his hand noncommittally, blood dripping to the floor. Deryn got up and found a towel in the packs, tossing it to Alek, who began to wipe down his wound. She then checked Newkirk and Ludlow, but apparently they were fine.

Finally, they were ready to go. Deryn settled into one of the gunners' seat, realizing that she was probably going to drift off to sleep, and wouldn't be of use in any of the others. Alek took over the pilot's seat, Newkirk sat in the commander's, and Ludlow found his place in the other gunners' station. After a quick check that everything was secure, Alek began to walk forward, pushing strange levers (saunters, were they called?) back and forth to move the legs. The rocking of the cabin was almost rhythmic, and soon Deryn was being swayed to sleep.


	5. Ludlow and a Gunfight

CHAPTER FIVE  
Barbed wire curled in ragged lines, above which rose sloped rooftops that Alek knew housed the inmates of the camps. Soft dawn light spilled from the rising sun, illuminated Nazi officers at they banged on the door of the barracks, shouting for the Jews to wake up. Alek cranked the viewport even wider and peered out into the air. They, and the walker, were crouched in the trees that surrounded the camp. Dylan joined Alek at the viewport and said quietly, "So that's it. Dachau."

"Yes. Dachau," Alek repeated, dazed. Until then, he hadn't realized the entire magnitude of the mission. He had known that Dachau was a concentration camp, but hadn't thought of all the death and grief that must have been happening within those fences, right now. He felt himself gripped with a sudden, cold despair. What were they getting themselves into?

"Well," Dylan continued. "I think we should ditch the walker and go on foot, now. It'll be easier to get into the offices and such if we use stealth instead of force. Plus, we want to keep as many lives as possible, so …" He looked at the others. They nodded back. "All right. Take your stuff and let's go."

They immediately sprang into action, gathering their packs, drawing weapons out of the locker. Alek grabbed his saber and hefted his backpack onto his shoulders with a grunt, and was surprisingly the first down the hatch. Dylan slid down after him, and Newkirk and Ludlow appeared a few minutes later. "Ready?" Dylan asked. Alek nodded. "All right. Get to the edge of the forest and we'll split up there."

Before the sun was even fully up, they were weaving among the trees, trying to be as silent as possible. Dylan stopped them halfway and said quickly, "The backpacks will slow us. Put them here and we'll come back later." He indicated a hollow tree. There were some grumbles and protests, but eventually they got all their packs into the tree. Dylan was right - they were a lot faster without the backpacks slowing them down.

"Newkirk," Dylan said as they reached the edge of the forest. "You and Ludlow go around the west side and try to get in there. Alek and I will try the east side. As soon as you get in, I want you to find the communicative offices and try to take them over, and we'll take the administration. Got it?"

"Got it," Newkirk replied, giving Dylan a thumbs-up. With a nod, he waved Ludlow over to him, and soon they were melting into the shadows. Alek and Dylan were left alone.

"Come on," Dylan said, heading around the right of the fenced camp and keeping to the shadows of the forest. Anybody taking a leisurely glance outside wouldn't see anything but the leaves. Alek trailed after him, still apprehensive about the entire thing. _How are we going to do this thing? _he thought. _Does Dylan have a plan?_

"What are you planning?" Alek voiced his thoughts out loud. "How will we get control of the administration?" Dylan was resourceful at the worst of times, but this was different.

Dylan shrugged. "I honestly don't know. But considering that we're political enemies, I don't think the Germans would listen to a simple, "Hey, can you hand over your camp?". We'll have to use force." He held up his air pistol and nodded to Alek's saber. "That's why we have these. Although I don't really think your little sword can do anything against a German gun."

Alek touched the hilt of his saber protectively. "That's not fair," he replied. "Besides, the Germans won't even have a chance to shoot at me before I sliced their hands off with this saber." He tapped it a few times, as if trying to show off its awesome power.

"Whatever you say," Dylan murmured back. "As long as you don't get yourself killed."

He was about to reply when Alek suddenly saw a Nazi officer staring straight at them. At the same time, both the German and Alek spoke. "Dylan-"

_"Der Feind!" _the Nazi shouted. The enemy!

Dylan reacted immediately. Air pistols out, he leaped up and scrambled over the fence. "Come on!" he shouted. "This is our only chance! I guess we'll have to use force after all!"

Alek drew his saber and clambered after him, cresting the fence and then leaping down onto the sand. Already more Nazis were gathering around them, faces furious, guns drawn. The inmates stayed back, cowering against the barracks. Alek spared them only a fleeting glance, then turned his attention to the Nazis running at Dylan and him.

Bullets erupted, spraying sand everywhere. Alek couldn't afford to watch Dylan, and instead focused only on the soldiers advancing toward him. Trusting his friend to keep himself safe, Alek swung his saber at the closest Nazi. It sliced through his uniform, staining the slash red. The soldier stumbled back momentarily, but then came again, firing his gun with even more energy. Alek ducked and slashed and swung and ran, but still, they were outnumbered. He glanced at Dylan. "There's too many of them!" he shouted. Dylan glanced back and nodded silently. Alek knew what he meant by the gesture, and immediately drove through the masses. The soldiers were pushed to the side, clearing a path. Gunshots sounded right next to his ear, but he was able to stagger through them with only a few nicks on his arm and leg. "The offices!" Alek shouted, flailing his hand toward a large black building. Dylan nodded again, and they sprinted together toward the administrative offices.

Both of them were limping, and Dylan's forearm was slick with blood. Alek held in a concerned outburst, not wanting to distract him, and instead gave him a worried look. Dylan just shook his head. "Later," he replied. "Right now, we have to get to the offices."

The Nazis that had attacked them were now running after them, shouting in German and shooting their guns wildly. Dylan pulled Alek behind a barrack, weaving among the buildings and using them for cover. Alek squinted his eyes, trying to keep the offices in sight. "Right over there!" he shouted when he saw it. "Not even twenty meters away!"

They reached the door of the offices and slammed their way inside. Nazi officers sprang up from their chairs, shouting in German and pulling out their guns. Alek whirled around and jammed his saber in the lock, effectively shutting the others out. As bullets sprang from the officers' guns, he could vaguely hear Dylan slamming her air pistol into their heads. Grunts and thuds confirmed his speculations. Not even a minute had passed before all the officers were on the floor. But Dylan was wounded - his calf was caked with blood. Limping and gasping, he fell into a chair and swiveled around to face the radios. "Alek," he gasped out. "Keep the soldiers out. I'll shut down the radio systems and drive the Nazis out of the camp."

Alek nodded and began barricading the door, piling chairs and tables in front of it. Frustrated shouts could be heard from outside, the wood of the door bending inward with their attempts to break in. _"Lasst uns rein! Lasst uns rein!" _A few gunshots could be heard, tearing holes into the wood.

"Dylan, hurry!" Alek shouted, noticing a few of the soldiers climbing toward the single window. "They're coming through the window! And they're shooting down the-"

Before he could finish, and before Dylan could reply, and before any of the soldiers could get inside, a sudden, loud voice rang over the camp. The speakers on the posts above the barracks rang with sound. "Attention, inmates and soldiers!" the voice of Newkirk could be heard. "Dachau concentration camp is now under the control of the nation of Great Britain! All German soldiers must now clear out of the camp, or will face the air guns of the airship _Leviathan."_

Alek saw Dylan smile. "Newkirk's got the communication," he said softly.

Newkirk continued. "If you resist the liberation, you will be stranded in hostile territory. I am sending a reinforcement to the administrative offices right now. Please follow these instructions. Thank you." There was a squeal of static, then a click, then silence.

A few heart-stopping seconds later, Ludlow came running at the Nazi soldiers outside the offices from behind, his guns raised and firing madly at them. Taken by surprised, they dropped one by one, crying out in pain, and then silent in death. Alek turned away and slid over to Dylan. "Done?" he asked breathlessly.

"Done," Dylan confirmed. "All we have to do is drive the rest of the Germans out, then we'll have complete control over Dachau."

"All right," Alek agreed. He drew his saber. Dylan cocked his air pistol. Together, they turned, smashed the window and leaped back into the fray, where a few Nazi soldiers were still putting up a fight. Alek immediately targeted a random one, and slashed away. He could vaguely hear Dylan shooting away a few feet away, and Ludlow doing the same a little further down the camp.

His opponent was temporarily driven back by his saber, grunting, but came back at full force, bullets flying everywhere. Alek took a hit in his leg, and he drew in a sharp breath of pain. Trying to push the agony out of his mind, he stabbed the saber down. A sickening fan of blood sprayed upward. With a groan and a scream, the soldier slumped to the ground. Alek forced himself to leave the man where he lay and focus on defeating the others.

Or were there even others? Dylan and Ludlow had made short work of the soldiers, and now the ground was littered with the dozen bodies of the Nazis. The sand was dark with blood. Alek shut his eyes and gagged, stumbling up the steps back into the offices. "I'm sorry," he choked out, gasping a bit from the wound in his leg. "I can't - it's too -"

Dylan nodded and limped toward him, pulling Ludlow up the steps after Alek and laying him on the floor. Out of the three of them, Ludlow was the most wounded. He had a gaping hole in his side, rimmed with scarlet blood. He gasped in pain, pressing a hand to his side. Alek pushed his repulsion out of his mind and knelt down next to him. "How bad?" he asked Dylan out of the corner of his mouth.

The midshipman pressed his lips together, and Alek could see a few tears at the edges of his eyes. "Fatal," he whispered, so quiet that Alek could barely even hear him.

Even a prince was shattered by that one word. Alek clenched his fists and looked away. "Ludlow-"

"It's okay, Alek," Ludlow rasped. "I took a bullet that was aimed for you. I just saved the prince of Austria." He grinned at him, even at his death. "Tell the captain that, aye?"

Alek pressed his fist to his mouth, not wanting to agree, wanting Ludlow to live. But his eyes were so pleading and his wound so horrific that he found himself saying softly, "Aye, Ludlow. Aye."

Ludlow smiled, his eyes fluttering closed. For a moment he seemed as if he were sleeping. But then, with a last, labored breath, he slumped in Dylan's arms and was still.

Tears ran down Alek's eyes. _This is my fault, _he thought. _He was doing it to save me. _Not wanting to bear the guilt anymore, he stood up and hobbled out the door, only to be faced with the lifeless bodies of the Nazi soldiers. _Why? Why me? _Choking, he whirled around and stumbled back inside, going around Dylan and Ludlow, and finding an upright chair somewhere in the chaos. He sank down into the chair, buried his head in his hands, and began to silently cry.


	6. Conversations

CHAPTER SIX  
Deryn knelt at the simple wooden cross placed above a mound of earth, her leg wound twanging as she did so. Inscribed across the wood were the words, _Patrick Ludlow, Served on the Leviathan, Died taking a Bullet for the Prince of Austria. _Deryn had written the epitome, but now she was uneasy about the words. The last part nagged at her, but it couldn't be changed. Holding in a sob, she lay a sprig of wildflowers at the base of the cross. "Ludlow," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Her words echoed in the graveyard, where the German soldiers and Ludlow were buried just outside the fences of the camp.

"Dylan!" Alek called. Deryn turned, wiping at her eyes. "Dylan, we got the backpacks from the hiding place. Newkirk sent the felavian back, and dressed our wounds. You need to come back so we can bandage you up properly." His expression was stoic and calm, but Deryn knew that he was grieving inside.

"Right," Deryn replied. "Right. I'm coming." She pushed herself up, rubbed at her eyes, and stuffed her hands in her pockets, limping back toward gate of the camp. Alek waited for her, and when she got there, they walked back to the administrative offices together.

"Alek," she continued as they walked up the steps to the offices. "How's Newkirk?"

"Wounded," Alek replied, pushing the door open. "But he's okay. A few nicks to the thigh and a shot to the arm. He got himself bandaged up, though, so I'm sure he'll pull through." He glanced at Deryn, whose blood was congealing along her arm. "But you really need to get yourself treated. And we need to ration out the food and water and clothes."

Deryn nodded and sat down heavily in a chair. "Aye, I know. But we don't have much. Just four backpacks. Maybe we should just leave them out in the open, and the inmates can choose what they want. It'll tide them over until the _Leviathan _comes."

Alek responded with a nod of his own. "Good idea. I'll do that now. Newkirk can dress your wounds." He gestured to the other middy, who was already extracting bandages and bottles from one of the packs. "I'll be back before you can say 'squick'," he promised, and left out the door with the four backpacks on his shoulders.

"Squick," Deryn said.

Newkirk grinned and held up the medical supplies. "Well, Sharp. Let's get you bandaged." He came over by Deryn's chair and glanced at her wounds. "Where were you hit?" he asked, his voice more somber now that he saw the gravity of her injuries.

"Calf," she listed, gritting her teeth against the pain. "A nick in the thigh. And my forearm and a couple of scratches around my shoulder and upper arm." She pulled up her sleeve and trousers, exposing the gaping wounds. Newkirk looked startled, but then he calmed himself down and began to clean the blood away. As soon as her skin was clean, he began to wind bandages around them. Deryn watched silently. She didn't care that they were treating her like some helpless soldier. As long as her secret stayed safe, she'd take any treatment from her friends.

Alek came back a few minutes later, empty backpacks sagging from his arms. "They made short work of them," he commented as he walked inside, casting them down and to the side. They're so hungry and sick. The _Leviathan _needs to come soon. None of us are experienced enough to do anything more medical than a few bandages." He nodded at Newkirk, who was just tying off the last strip on Deryn's arm.

As soon as he was finished, Deryn pushed herself to her feet. But the events of the day seemed to catch up with her, and she staggered forward, crying out. The bandage around her calf turned a pale pink from the fresh blood. Alek rushed over to help her, catching her just before she hit the ground. "Hey," he said quietly. "You need to get some rest. Newkirk and I will take care of the camp, okay?"

Deryn opened her mouth to protest, but Alek shook his head and half-dragged her to the bunks behind the offices. "We'll be in the same building, so if you need any help, just call," Alek ordered her as he lay her down. She slumped onto the bunk and looked up at Alek through half-closed eyelids. He was looking at her inquiringly, almost admiringly. With a small smile, she waved him away, and Alek disappeared through the door to join Newkirk.

Left alone on a bunk, her calf and forearm throbbing with pain, she clenched her fists and tried to shut out the agony. It didn't work, so she slid under the covers, pulling the blanket around her shoulders and shivering within. Even though it was barely after noon, she felt like she hadn't eaten in ages. Deryn turned over and let her hand fall over the side of the bed. "Alek," she called out, her voice tight with pain. "I'm hungry."

Alek peeked his head back inside. "Hungry? Okay? Newkirk, any extra food?" He flicked back out through the door for a moment, but then he was back with a bowl of soup in his hands. "There you go," he announced, placing it in her arms. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. The _Leviathan _will be here soon, and then you can heal properly. I don't suppose you'll be working topside for a while, but at least you're alive," Alek continued. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, not even noticing that Deryn was there.

Deryn quietly slurped the soup, marveling in the fact that it contained potatoes. She didn't want to interrupt Alek's talking, for fear that he would stop and realize that he was voicing his thoughts aloud. Silently consuming the broth, she listened to his talk.

"I mean, your leg and arm and shoulder are injured, but you're not dead, at least. I still have you. It would be horrible if I lost my one best friend on the ship. I don't know what I would have done without you to guide me around. And if it means that you won't be on duty for a while, well, I hope you forgive me when I say that it's a fair trade for a friend's life." Alek paused. Deryn chewed on a potato.

"I'm not saying Klopp, Volger, Hoffman, and Bauer are bad company, but you're my age, you know? And you're more of a friend than they could ever be. They're like parents, like uncles. You're like … you're … I don't know how to describe it, but it's like we have a connection."

Deryn looked at him curiously. _Like we have a connection. _

Just then, Alek seemed to realize what he was doing. "Oh sorry," he mumbled, quickly shuffling toward the door. "You need your rest now. I'll leave you alone." Before Deryn could even muster a _Wait, Alek! _he was out the door and back in the offices. Deryn sighed and leaned back against the pillows, her now-empty bowl of soup rolling onto the mattress beside her.

_I don't know what I would have done without you … it's like we have a connection._

Deryn wondered what he meant by that. Could he know her secret? And did he maybe … did he maybe feel that way about her? But then she chased the childish thoughts out of her head. _You ninny, _she scolded herself. _You out of all people know that he could never love a commoner. Besides, _she added ruefully. _If he knew my secret, he'd call me Deryn and not Dylan._

She knew it was foolish to hope, and that it could never come to be, anyway. But for some reason she kept thinking about him - his dark hair, his green eyes, the way engine grease made him look just that much more handsome. Deryn closed her eyes and laced her fingers on her belly, tired and full, injured and wanting a good long rest. _Face it, Deryn, _she thought. _You may have joined the Air Service. You may have deceived the entire nation of Great Britain. But there is no power in this world that can change you to a princess._

Somehow, she must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing she knew she was being shaken awake by a gentle pair of hands. Deryn opened her eyes, expecting Alek or Newkirk. But it was Dr. Barlow, her face creased with worry. "The others are on the ship. Ludlow's being given a memorial service. We came back early because of the felavian's message, and you need to get on the _Leviathan _now." She glanced meaningfully at Deryn's injuries.

"What? Oh …" Deryn murmured, swinging herself out of the bed and pulling herself to her feet. "Are the inmates being taken care of? Has Alek been treated, and Newkirk? And has Ludlow's family-"

"Yes, yes," the lady boffin replied. "Now get on the ship and into your cabin. You're injured and you need to heal as quickly as possible. Oh, and the captain should be coming around later." She grabbed Deryn's hand and pulled her out of the room, out of the offices, and out of the camp. Deryn stumbled along beside her as they climbed up the _Leviathan, _and through the gondola to her cabin. Dr. Barlow literally forced her into her bed, and nodded at her to stay there. "It's the morning after you completed your mission," she said. "The captain will be here by noon." Without another word, she turned and whisked away, skirts swishing around her ankles.

Deryn lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. But then sh realized it was too tedious just lying around. Arm and leg burning with pain, Deryn struggled to sit up. _I have to talk to Alek. I have to talk to Newkirk. I can't just stay here. _She was getting ready to hop out of bed when suddenly there was a knock at her door.

With alarming speed for one so impaired, she dove back under her covers and called out, "Who's there?" At the last minute, she remembered to use her Dylan voice.

"Captain Hobbes, Dr. Barlow, and Mr. Rigby, Midshipman Sharp," came the captain's voice through the wood. "We wish to speak with you if you are available at the moment."

"Uh … sure. Come in," she replied, and dug down deeper in the sheets. She tried to make herself look like she was sleeping (or at least resting) for the last half hour or so. As the three of the aforementioned officers strode into her cabin, she let her gaze rake across each of them. Captain Hobbes looked pleased, Dr. Barlow was amused and proud, and Mr. Rigby had a grudgingly cheerful look on his face. Deryn narrowed her eyes. What was going on?

"Mr. Sharp," Captain Hobbes began. "We have sent a full report of your mission to the Admiralty back in London. We were very pleased with the outcome and your efficiency in completing it."

Deryn blinked at him. _The Admiralty?_ Were they planning on giving her a medal? "What about Newkirk? And Alek? And … and Ludlow?" she asked.

Captain Hobbes cleared his throat. "Well, um, you see … Alek _is _still a Clanker, even if he didn't help you … it wouldn't be right for Great Britain to give him a medal. Newkirk didn't the lead the mission. And Ludlow is, um, deceased and we didn't feel that-"

"_What? _But my father got a medal, even after _he _died! And Alek was a key part of the mission!" Deryn interrupted before she could help it. Then she realized what she'd done. She slapped a hand over her mouth and flushed red. "I … I'm sorry," she mumbled around her fingers.

The captain regarded her silently. For a long time, they just stared at each other, each wondering what the other was thinking. Deryn felt her temples begin to itch, and her fingers twitched in impatience and nervousness. _You ninny, _she thought to herself. _You've ruined it already. _Then, finally, the captain turned sharply and strode to the door. "That is up to the Admiralty," he said quietly, and then he was gone.

Dr. Barlow lingered for a little while, but then she too, left. Either she felt awkward staying around after the captain left, or she was offended by Deryn's outburst - she followed the captain out just a few moments later. Mr. Rigby hesitated, but then he was gone as well.

Deryn groaned and sank down into her pillows. _Deryn, you are such a _Dummkopf, she berated herself. _First you almost get yourself found out, then you interrupt the captain just as he's about to give you a medal. _She paused, then shook her head with a bitter chuckle. _All for a daft prince and a dead soldier you never knew._

She wasn't even able to be left alone with her thoughts before another knock came at the door. Deryn sighed loudly and yelled, "Aye, who is it?"

"Alek," came the reply.

"Oh." Deryn blinked. She hadn't seen him since before she passed out in the offices, and wasn't looking forward to it. _It's like we have a connection … _it would be awkward trying to talk to him normally, especially after hearing that. But he would get suspicious if she turned him away, and besides, she would have to face him eventually. "You can come in," she decided, setting her jaw and steeling herself.

The door creaked open, and Alek shuffled inside. He was sweating a bit, and she guessed he had just returned from egg duty. "Hello," he greeted her, sinking down into a chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurts, but it's not nearly as bad as everyone's making it out to be!" Deryn cried out, giving a _humph _of dissatisfaction. She rolled her eyes and gestured sharply at her arm and leg. "I mean, it's not gushing blood or anything! I can still do my duties."

Alek shifted his weight and glanced around the room, as if he were just as uncomfortable as Deryn. "Well," he replied slowly. "I don't know about that. I mean, there was so much _blood _before and I don't think it would be safe-"

"Blisters, but you worry too much," Deryn muttered.

"I don't worry too much!" Alek protested. "You're my closest - and only - friend on the _Leviathan, _and it wouldn't exactly do any good if you fell off a Huxley because your injured arm couldn't take the weight!" He gestured wildly with his hands, as if illustrating such a demise.

Deryn crossed her arms. "Daft prince," she muttered. "But I can't go directly against the captain's orders. So I _suppose _I _have _to stay in bed, at least until the head boffin lets me back topside." She looked up at the ceiling of her cabin, already longing for the wind in her hair, her face, as she scampered across the ratlines. Deryn sighed. _It'll be at least a few days before they let me go back to my regular duties._

Alek found a seat and sat down gingerly. "Very well," he responded, leaning his elbows on his knees. "That's one less thing to worry about."

Deryn frowned. His tone suggested that he was pleased, but his words - _one less thing to worry about - _told her that he was agitated by other issues. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," Alek said firmly, but a little too quickly. His eyes darted around the room.

"Alek …" Deryn gave him a look.

"Oh, all right," Alek huffed. "It's just that … well, we're still Clankers on a Darwinist ship. What is the Admiralty going to do with us? Throw us in the 'brig'? Execute us?" He shook his head. "I don't know how I'm supposed to act! Am I an enemy or an ally?"

Deryn mentally flinched at the words that almost matched the captain's just a few minutes earlier. "I don't know," she sighed truthfully. "I really have no idea. It's up to the Admiralty, like you said. I can't help you, though. It would be treason - helping the enemy in wartime? I would be thrown into the brig for sure!"

Alek shook his head. "I'm not asking you to help me. I'm just telling you … how I feel." He looked down at his hands and sighed quietly. "I knew you wouldn't understand. You're a Darwinist, so you're safe as long as you stay loyal to Britain. But I'm a Clanker. I can't be so sure."

Thinking of her own secret, Deryn smiled bitterly. _If only he knew …_

"But thanks for listening, anyway," Alek sighed. "I just needed to get that out." He stood up and looked down at the floor, turning slightly toward the door. Deryn looked at him, at a loss for words. Luckily, she was saved of having to say anything by Alek's continuation. "So. I guess I'll be going then. I'll see you at lunch?"

Deryn looked at her hands. Lunch was at least an hour away. "Aye," she said, and smiled slightly. "And you're welcome, you daft prince."

Alek gave her a small, quick smile, and turned, walking out of the room and down the hall. Deryn listened to his footsteps for a while, then sighed again and slumped down into her pillows. _If he only knew, _she thought fiercely. _If he only knew._


End file.
